


prism

by nekrateholic



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 00:46:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/nekrateholic
Summary: In which they keep finding each other.





	prism

**Author's Note:**

> the warning is that there are a few brief instances where things get bloody with sharp things involved (only one of them is kinda explicit).
> 
> This was a gift for my favourite future author, my princess, my child, the light of my internet life. Valerie, I've said this a thousand times and I'll say it a thousand more. I love you. ♡

_red_

“Mother,” a little boy asks. “Mother, where is he going?”

She grips her son’s hand tighter, yanks at it until he’s behind her, her skirts obscuring his vision. “Hush, child. You need to stay quiet, you need to stay unseen.”

“Mother, why are they taking him away? He promised we’ll play again tomorrow, mother -”

“ _Hush._ ”

 _He_ catches the boy’s eyes, smiles. He sneaks back, squeezes between the other boys, fast like the rattlesnake they caught the other day -

There are mothers screaming, fathers crying. Angry, choked whispers. _Devşirme. Blood tax. My baby._

 _-_ it’s almost easy for him. He runs to the boy, smiles at his mother, whispers “Wait for me.” Means to say something more but the soldier noticed him, came for him, yelled, yanked him by the hair.

“You’re lucky yours is too young.” The soldier spits in the mother’s face and she steps back, grip her son’s hair harder.

 _He_ smiles as he’s taken away.

Mouths _wait_.

And little Jongin waits.

 

_green_

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Yixing asks. They are sharing a joint on a hill somewhere, both of them too high to remember where exactly.

Jongin’s legs are across Yixing’s belly, arms spread in the grass around them. “What do you mean, soulmates?”

“Like,” Yixing sits up, dislodging Jongin. Jongin blinks at the sky. “Like, people who are meant to be together or some shit.”

“Like, Jesus made them for each other?” Jongin says slowly. He lifts up on his elbows and his pupils are so wide they’ve swallowed his irises.

Yixing takes a long drag and hands him the joint. “Something like that.”

“That kinda beats the free love thing, though.” Jongin says again after a while, staring at the sky again.

“It doesn’t have to!” Yixing says with all the sluggish excitement of someone who hasn’t been sober in a long while. He shifts so Jongin’s body is trapped under his. “We could be soulmates but still, like, fuck other people.”

Jongin brushes the fringe out of his eyes. Takes the round sunglasses, too. “Do you not want to?”

“I want to.” Yixing buries his nose in Jongin’s neck. “You smell good.”

Jongin laughs. “I smell like weed. You do too.”

Yixing lifts his head, places both of his hands on each side of Jongin’s head. Stares at him. Whispers, “It’s the Summer of Love, Jongin. We’re the flower children.”

“We are.” Jongin smiles. He rolls them around, slides his hands under Yixing’s bright green shirt.

“We are.”

 

_blue_

They bleed blue, his father used to say. It doesn’t count.

Now, with prince Yixing’s blood on his hands, with his limp body in his hands, expression forever still in anticipation for the kiss he never got. Now, Jongin knows.

It’s red.

 

_red_

The janissary tilts his head, pushing his yatagan that much closer to Jongin’s throat. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”

Jongin spits in his face.

The janissary wipes his face with his sleeve, the hand holding the yatagan never wavering. “I’m going to assume this is a ‘no’. You filthy rebels have no place under our sun.” He pushes the blade further. Jongin can feel the blood trickling into his collar.

The others yell for him to hurry up and the janissary drives the yatagan through Jongin’s stomach without another word. Jongin’s eyes go wide and - his face softens.

He smiles.

The janissary stares, yatagan still firmly into Jongin’s body. Jongin gurgles, spits blood, smiles again.

“I… Waited.”

 

_yellow_

“Dad? Dad what’s this called?”

Jongin looks up from the newspaper he’s reading. His daughter is holding a tiny sunflower. Jongin blinks at him. “Where did you get that from?”

She impatiently points at where, on the other side of picnic area, two men are talking closely, way too close to not be intimate. One of them has a guitar, and he smiles when he meets Jongin’s eyes. He has dimples.

“What’s it called?” His daughter demands again.

“It’s a sunflower.” Jongin says absently, still staring at the stranger. “Hey,” He says again before she goes back to playing with the other kids. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers, you know that.” His daughter huffs and runs back to the kids, showing off her sunflower.

Jongin goes back to his newspaper, but he can’t help but steal glances at the men. He tells himself it’s because it’s odd to see two men together like that.

Three years and one failed marriage later, the new teacher in his daughter’s school has sunflowers in his hair.

 

_black_

There’s a boy. There are a lot of boys, really but this one catches Yixing’s attention. He has a face of stone as the barber shaves his head. Most of them keep their composure during that, but you can still see fear or regret or anticipation, even, in their eyes. The boy’s eyes are empty.

Yixing sees him again later that day, on his way to dinner. Yixing is lost, which is how he ended up in this hallway in the first place. There’s no one else, and the boy is huddled in the far east corner. His body shakes in an all too familiar way. He’s crying.

They lock eyes.

There’s a storm of emotions on the his face - horror, defensiveness, then just resignation. Yixing smiles at him, motions zipping his mouth shut and leaves.

They don’t see each other again that day. They train together, though - turns out both of them are good at psychical activities - fast, agile, even if they lack in strength. They never talk about the hallway. They never talk much, period - none of them do. But they drink - and train and live - and somehow there is more _home_ in Jongin’s eyes than there is in the occasional letter from Yixing’s parents.

 

_orange_

The chinese kid in the ugly orange sweater stutters over his Korean and Jongin barely gets a word he’s saying but it’s still somewhat endearing. He smiles at him and Yixing, his name is Yixing, Jongin reminds himself - Yixing smiles back.

That’s all there is to it, for a long time.

Despite the language barrier, Yixing is terribly friendly and one by one, everyone develops a soft spot for him. He’s never alone, always one or two or five people willing to socialize. Jongin wants to be one of them, really, but he just doesn’t know how to deal with people, sometimes. So instead of _trying_ , he tries his best to avoid Yixing at all costs. (Yixing still smiles whenever he catches him staring.)

Then EXO is a fact - or at least will be - and they move into the same dorm. They train twice as much as usual and barely have time to breathe but Jongin’s soft spot for Yixing still manages to manifest. It soon becomes the worst kept secret, and to Jongin’s (and no one else’s, really) surprise Yixing seems to have the exact same problem.

Now, Jongin has become Yixing’s favorite cuddle pillow and they talk, too - Yixing tends to choose Jongin over the people that usually hang around him and Jongin wants to slap himself for denying his friendliness for so long.

It’s a day like any other - they barely have time to breathe, but Jongin notices. Yixing’s smiles are more strained, he messes up more. Luhan talks to him in Chinese, way faster than Jongin’s limited Chinese skills can comprehend, and Yixing smiles, and he does seem better - only Jongin has the feeling he just started hiding it better.

That night, Yixing doesn’t crawl in Jongin’s bed to cuddle. So Jongin does.

Yixing doesn’t say anything, so Jongin doesn’t either. He just snuggles into him.

“I felt like shit today, you know.” Yixing says at some point.

Jongin hums. “I noticed.”

Yixing stays quiet for a long time. Then, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you feel like home?”

“I don’t know,” Jongin says, and weirdly does not freak out in his head. Jongin finds it hard to deal with people, yes, but Yixing is easy - so easy. “I feel...” He trails off. It’s cheesy and it’s embarrassing but one look at Yixing’s gentle smile is all it takes to find the courage. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

 

_purple_

Jongin wipes his hands on his tunic. The fire is blazing and dinner is ready, but as usual, Yixing is nowhere to be found.

Jongin walks out of home and - sure, Yixing is sprawled on the riverbank, in his cloak, watching the sky. Jongin can see the little clouds his breath is forming in the cold.

“You’re skipping work again.”

Yixing hums. “The lights are going to come out soon.”

“Really?” Jongin looks at the sky as well. It’s dark. “How do you know?”

“I just do.” This time, Jongin doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling

The green is the first one to come out. Jongin takes a deep breath - he sees the lights often enough, but they never cease to steal the breath out of him. Out of both of them.

Soon, it’s an explosion of colors in the sky and there it is - the purple. Yixing’s favorite. Jongin settles next to him, laying his head on Yixing’s chest and trying to imagine his heartbeat through the thick leather.

“I’ll have to take a woman, soon.” Yixing murmurs.

Jongin exhales, just to see the cloud mixing with the colors in the sky. “We can share.”

“We can,” Yixing laughs. “It won’t be the same.”

“It doesn’t matter. If we’re together, nothing matters.” Jongin tilts his head to watch Yixing watch the lights. Jongin’s always loved the lights, yes, but he’s always loved Yixing more.

 

_black_

War knows no mercy and, to everyone, Jongin is fearless.

Always in the front lines.

Jongin gets shot.

Someone rushes to him but Yixing can feel it, from across the damn field, can feel the light going out. Something in him breaking.

Jongin’s eyes are as empty as they were when Yixing first saw him.

Yixing throws himself in the fight.

 

_white_

The year is over.

The year in which Jongin got to serve Yixing, the earthly representation of their god. The sacrifice. The ghost sound of his flute plays in his mind, overpowering the noise and the drums accompanying the ritual.

Now, Yixing is being taken to the top of the temple. He will soon break his flute and…

Yixing’s expression is one of peace.

Jongin can’t help but close his eyes as the priest drives the knife through Yixing’s body. The noise has never been more deafening and Jongin knows if he opens his eyes now, he’ll see Yixing’s still beating heart in the hands of the priest, or maybe in the bowl which he will not be able to see from here. Jongin’s eyes stay shut as he cuts his own thigh open.

When the next person to represent the god of night is chosen, Jongin offers himself.

 

_prism_

“We can run away.” Jongin says frantically. “I know a few of the guards, they owe me favors.”

Yixing hugs him tighter, muffles Jongin’s whimpers with his mouth. “You know we can’t, love. I am the sacrifice. I can’t be selfish - the god must receive his offering, for the sake of all of us.”

“I can’t,” Jongin chokes. Then whispers, “I can’t remember how to live without you.”

Yixing takes Jongin’s face in his hands, kisses his eyelashes. Kisses the tears away. “We’ll meet again, my love. In another life - I’ll find you. I’ll always find you.”

**Author's Note:**

> a few wikipedia links that would help understand why they did what they did in some places: [devşirme](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devshirme), [Summer of Love](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Summer_of_Love), [Tezcatlipoca](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_sacrifice_in_Aztec_culture#Tezcatlipoca).  
> i didn't use names natural to each culture because that would've just been confusing, i think. i like to imagine those are their souls' names.
> 
> p.s. in case you were wondering, yes, i made them vikings in one of them.


End file.
